seagull

we spent all year
trying not to get older.
i gutted my stuffed animals
in search of hidden microphones.
without proof,
i can't say for sure
that there are angels
taking my teeth.
in the car we talk about honey bees
& maple syrup. in a parking lot
in temple, pa we see a flock
of seagulls far from an ocean.
the strip mall has a chinese buffet,
a dry cleaners, & a fabric store.
no one has enough to make it
until the end of the year.
the sea gulls talk about football
& marriage. you eat a lamp post
& i do not try to stop you.
laughing you say it's a joke
but i know it's not a joke.
i don't want to be beholden
to the five-day work week 
& i'm not even alive yet. 
the headlights turn into cinnamon buns.
i am so hungry all of the time.
we resolve to get slices of pizza
& make out with random boys
we promised everything to.
folding the pizza. leaving the country
in an inflatable promise.
the sea gulls are surely on their way
to somewhere, right? i beg them
to not just be lost like me.
they offer no condolences 
or reassurances. instead they just
call & call. a shopping cart
we fill with zippers. we should
get going but we can't. the car
won't start or we won't start it.
it is not our life. it belongs to 
the weeds & the gutted place 
a payphone used to perch. 
i don't believe you when you tell me
we're adults.